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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733539">luck consists not in holding the best cards</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieWords/pseuds/MagpieWords'>MagpieWords</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AUgust 2020 - Magpiewords [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Heaven Wins the Apocalypse (Good Omens), Angst, Anxiety, Dark Comedy, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, aka aziraphale keeps all his books, humanity survives in the legacy we left behind, probably a happy ending tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:36:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieWords/pseuds/MagpieWords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"...luckiest is he who knows just when to rise." - John Milton Hay</p><p> The apocalypse happens and Crowley and Aziraphale prepare to do whatever they have to in order to survive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>AUgust 2020 - Magpiewords [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AUgust 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>luck consists not in holding the best cards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I almost wish I didn't pick this idea for a 'one-au-per-day' challenge because I'd really like to dedicate more time to it... But it's a story I've wanted to tell for a while so I'm glad it's at least started. Someday I'll come back and write more chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In another reality, with different mistakes and different people, there has to be hope that the apocalypse was avoided. That, against the prophecies and the scripture, the world did not end on the strange day in summer. There might be a version where an angel and a demon joined together, fighting back and defeating their oppressors. There might be a time where they fight with wit instead of as warriors. Maybe, there’s a universe where the two trying to stop the apocalypse are so incompetent, that the apocalypse ends up stopping itself.</p><p>Those realities must be nice. They are not this reality.</p><p>Aziraphale and Crowley, an angel and a demon, did join forces. They worked together, raised the wrong Anti-Christ, and stood against their oppressors at an airbase in Tadfield. They were so incompetent, that the real Anti-Christ had only just met them. Until this moment, the realities one would hope for and the reality of this story are the same. Adam Young is very human in his heart. He does not want the world to burn. If he is the apocalypse, he was ready to stop himself.</p><p>The order in which things happen, the way the cards are dealt, matters more than the cards themselves. In one order, horsemen, then Gabriel and Beelzebub, then Satan, the apocalypse might be avoided. In another order, the confidence earned from a successful gamble with Death, might be lost going up against a more charismatic enemy first. A skull may be intimidating, but he wasn’t always convincing. And he certainly wasn’t motivated. To Death, life ends whenever it ends. To an archangel and a prince of Hell, life needed to end now.</p><p>In the order in which this particular story happened, the way these very unfortunate cards fell, Gabriel and Beelzebub were waiting for Adam Young long before his bike wheels touched the tarmac of the Tadfield Airbase. And they came with an ace up their sleeves.</p><p>The fear of death is nothing compared to the threat of one’s father.</p><p>The war humanity experienced was brilliantly and blindingly short lived. Nuclear destruction of that scale leaves no survivors. Adam’s worries were short lived as well. The pressure of ruling the leftover world was much less of a concern as his side of the war started to lose.</p><p>“We should have taken him with us,” Crowley paced in their bunker as the celestial and infernal war raged above them. “Your side has no problems killing a kid. Or all the kids, as the case may be.”</p><p>“They’re not my side,” Aziraphale said. He had been unbothered throughout this, impossibly calm the moment the first missile collided with the earth. In the unknowable amount of time they draft-dodged in their bunker, he was content to read through his collection. Crowley hadn’t even thought to ask him to downsize, as they shared the cramped celestial pocket dimension; those books were the last of humanity.</p><p>“I don’t know if our side can make a comeback from this, angel. There was nothing of the world when we came in here, there’ll be less than nothing after this war.”</p><p>“Don’t be silly, Crowley, of course we’ll– how did you say it? Make the backing?”</p><p>“Comeback. And no, you’re not listening–”</p><p>Aziraphale closed his book and even that soft sound was deafening in their little corner between universes. “And you’re not understanding. We won't lose because our side is whichever one wins.”</p><p>Crowley opened and closed his mouth for a moment and Aziraphale frowned at the reminder that non-miracled sushi was never going to be in his future again. Eventually, Crowley dropped down on the couch next to him. “You’re right, I’m not understanding.”</p><p>“The odds are always in your favor when you stack the deck.” Aziraphale straightened his already unblemished bowtie, and even through his annoyance, Crowley found his confidence endearing. “Whichever side wins is the one we belong to.”</p><p>“What do you expect me to do, rise? I’m not about to let you fall–”</p><p>“Don’t be daft, you can’t rise.” He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. “Sorry, dear boy, didn’t mean to be so blunt.”</p><p>“Eh, ‘s fine. Not news. Anyway, this plan?”</p><p>“Right.” Aziraphale put his book down, shuffling about the small space looking for a different one. “Complete destruction of the opposing side would be an impossible task, even as victory is assured. The quicker, cleaner route is accepting a surrender and taking the enemies as prisoners. Heaven will use the devils to clean up the war, then as extra desk jockeys for the rest of eternity. Ah!” The book he held in his hand now was not his usual tome, but a thin journal. He returned to Crowley, sitting so their thighs touched, and flipped it open. Scripts, diagrams, a plan all unfurled before Crowley. Despite his own unavoidable fear, he had to admit it looked sound.</p><p>“I assume Hell would go about it the same way, of course,” Aziraphale concluded, as he pointed to the ‘variant dialogue options’ in his notes.</p><p>“That’s a bold assumption.”</p><p>“Well?” His fingers clutched at the book, the first visible show of nerves since he got the last of his collection tucked safely away from the destruction.</p><p>Crowley shrugged. “Not wrong tho. Hell was never one for originality.”</p><p>The tension dropped immediately and Aziraphale bumped his shoulder against Crowley’s. “Not their fault you took all the clever ideas with you, dear.”</p><p>“If I’m so clever, let me see if I can tweak this…” They worked through the plan over and over again, until Crowley lost the need to pace through the tiny space of their home. It wasn’t earth, didn’t erase the devastation raging on what was their home, but throughout the eons, both angel and demon had known loss. Never of this scale, but cultures forgotten or bloodlines burned never got easier to bear. The only comfort was knowing that, with time, the pain would fade and honoring the memory was more important than the gap it left. With the books, with their conjured copies of artifacts and traditions, with a time scale no longer measured by human life, Aziraphale and Crowley were ready to leave their metaphorical mourning clothes when they left the bunker.</p><p>“Don’t know why I bet against you. Always knew Hell was too stupid to win.” Crowley tossed a shekel to the angel as they stepped onto the scorched planes of the earth. The coin disappeared into Aziraphale’s hand, only to reappear in the other. “Not this again.”</p><p>The atmosphere had burned off, and an asteroid ring of broken continents floating above could almost be considered beautiful. The night sky was so visible, now that the sun had been doused in holy water. Crowley couldn’t say he minded the unaltered view of the stars.</p><p>Aziraphale flicked the ancient gold between his fingers again. “Oh, but I just remembered that one trick from–” The energy drained away from them as a shadow appeared overhead. Without the sun, shadows could only be formed as a being came down from a different light source.</p><p>“Showtime,” Aziraphale whispered.</p><p>“Yup.” Crowley stretched his arms above his head, wishing he could take in one last breath of air that hadn’t been lost to the vacuum of the cosmos, and transformed. He slithered up Aziraphale’s body, flicked his tongue in a facsimile of a kiss against Aziraphale’s cheek, then bared his fangs.</p><p>The tussle was probably less convincing that it should be, but Aziraphale was remiss to leave his coat behind in the bunker, yet refused to have it dirtied on the remains of the planet. Fortunately, it wasn’t difficult to convince archangels.</p><p>“Surrender, you useless serpent, your war is lost!” Aziraphale shouted just as Gabriel touched down.</p><p>The archangel’s laugh made Crowley break from the plan, lunging towards him purely on instinct. Aziraphale gripped his neck, just inches before Crowley’s fangs would reach Gabriel’s face, and dragged him back down. At least the laughter stopped.</p><p>“Gabriel!” Aziraphale didn’t need to pretend to sound out of breath. “So glad you’re here. You will not believe the prize I’ve found.”</p><p>“Prize? Are you sure you don’t need help?” The smugness Gabriel usually radiated was lacking, but it was still there and still grating.</p><p>“Oh no, I’ve got him well in hand.” That was the cue. Crowley let his body be twisted to the most unnatural angle before transforming back into a human-shape that truly loathed how his spine had been treated.</p><p>“Mercy! Mercy, please! I’m s-s-” In every rehearsal, it was still hard to say. Crowley had begged for his life before, but this was something more.</p><p>Aziraphale’s hand was still on his neck, slamming Crowley down into the earth again. His glasses had the decency to reappear when he transformed, but lacked the wherewithal to remain on his face through this final thrashing. With nothing to hide behind, all Crowley could see was Aziraphale and the shattered remains of the earth above.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” The words left him in a whimper, barely audible even on a desolate, empty planet. He was worried Gabriel wouldn’t hear him, but the gentle gasp from the archangel told him their performance had been enough.</p><p>“I… I didn’t know demons could repent.” He sounded haunted, though Crowley couldn’t begin to imagine why.</p><p>“Like I said, a prize.” Aziraphale stood, dragging Crowley with him and moving his hand to the back of Crowley’s neck. “I caught this one trying to start an insurgence after we’d accept the surrender. He’s bold, I’ll give him that, but he’s desperate. Afraid.”</p><p>Crowley didn’t mean to shiver, it wasn’t in the script, but even as he knew what Aziraphale was about to suggest, he hadn’t been prepared for how gleefully malicious his angel would sound.</p><p>“I think we can use him, Gabriel. Give me a space, some tools, and I can experiment on him. I’ve learned so much from the humans, so much knowledge I can use on him. I can learn how much the remaining demons are actually worth to the glory of God.”</p><p>They had prepared for every argument, any pushback the archangel might give. Their plan was foolproof. But it hadn’t accounted for Gabriel to dumbly nod, staring unblinking at Crowley like might be worth everything or cost the Heavenly Host a damnation all their own.</p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale’s voice lost its edge, back to its regular nervous titter. “I, uh, well I’m so glad you agree.”</p><p>Gabriel nodded again, before snapping out of his trance. “Come on. Sandalphon will be clearing the field any minute now, we don’t want to get caught up in that, do we, Sunshine?”</p><p>“No we do not.” Aziraphale dragged Crowley along as the three of them ascended.</p><p>Gabriel eyed Crowley as they reached the pearly gates. “You got a good hold on that thing?”</p><p>There was a single tap of Aziraphale’s middle finger against the back of Crowley’s neck, a split second of warning before the angel bashed his corporation into the ground. The rehearsal for those death drops had been well worth it. He felt Aziraphale’s boot rest on his cheek and that was the final cue. With how easily Gabriel agreed, Crowley didn’t really think this move was necessary, but Aziraphale loved nothing more than a good performance.</p><p>With a truly ungodly scream, Crowley let his limbs arch to angles that he could hear made an onlooking angel gag. He cut off the scream with a whimper, mouth snapping shut for a split second to wiggle loose one of his nearly shed fangs. Another press from Aziraphale’s boot and he spit the tooth onto the white marble floor, splattering it with what Gabriel wouldn’t identify as strawberry jam.</p><p>“Like I said, well in hand.” Aziraphale’s beaming smile could be heard in his voice, and Crowley tried to remember that he was supposed to be a miserable wretch and not a proud boyfriend. Then there was the angel’s trademark little titter and the pride morphed into a fondness that nearly overwhelmed him. “Or rather, in boot, as it were.”</p><p>Convincing Aziraphale to leave his usual shoes in the bunker nearly dissolved this entire plan before it started, but Crowley had been right, of course. A soldier angel could get away with a fancy coat, but he needed proper boots for a battle.</p><p>“I have to say I’m impressed, Aziraphale. Didn’t think you had it in you.” There was a muffled sound, then the pressure on Crowley’s face became a little more real than they had practiced for. “You kept the gut but you’re still a fighting machine.”</p><p>“And soon to be a research machine.” The boot left Crowley’s face and Aziraphale’s hand returned to his neck, hauling him up.</p><p>“Oh yeah, going to need to keep a close eye on this thing.” Gabriel squinted at Crowley for a moment, before looking towards the tooth on the floor. “Ew. Somebody clean this up!” He shouted into the halls of heaven, and something buzzed into existence, kneeling down to do as requested.</p><p>Crowley almost broke character to see Beelzebub scrubbing the floor at Gabriel’s order. Fortunately, Gabriel was quick to lead them away, not giving any of them a chance to look back at what had become of Hell’s prince.</p><p>Heaven had certainly changed since Crowley had fallen, but he was fairly sure it was different from what Aziraphale had described before the second war. The marble flooring and grand columns were still in place, but something of the office vibe was lost at the lack of windows or hard edges. Instead of the overhead view of industry and progress, or whatever Heaven wanted to call their rather anglocentric cityscape, they appeared to be on the same level as an endless field of celestial grain.</p><p>Gabriel stayed far away from the flora of his domain, skirting the edges until stopping for no apparent reason. Aziraphale looked around for a moment, starting to ask, “are we…”</p><p>But Gabriel held up a hand. “Quiet. This new keycard system they got takes a bit of concentration.” He waved the hand in something of a pattern, and energy sparked before them, creating a doorway. “I’ll teach you that one. You can use it anywhere in Heaven, but they’re easier to do at their signature points.”</p><p>“Oh!” Aziraphale went to clap his hands before realizing he was still holding onto Crowley’s neck. “We haven’t had a new theme since the revolution.”</p><p>Gabriel frowned. “Wow, been a while since you’ve been up here, huh. No, our last change was in 1789 AD, not 1776. Honestly, I thought ‘Industry and Progress’ was much better than this ‘Homage to Eden’ crap, but that’s not my department.”</p><p>Crowley failed to hold back a laugh that the cityscape had actually been called that, but he twisted it into a strangled hiss before Gabriel could notice.</p><p>“I was partial to ‘Nobility Strongholds’ myself,” Aziraphale whispered to him as they walked through the portal. Crowley choked out a sound again and Aziraphale didn’t bother to hide his smirk. </p><p>The inside of the little doorway was dark. Gabriel clapped his hands together and the lights flickered on. Larger on the inside, there was nothing in the wide empty room. It was easily three times the size of their bunker, even bigger than the bookshop itself.</p><p>“Will this work?” Gabriel asked.</p><p>“Oh, it’s perfect.” Aziraphale walked into the room, turning about and turning Crowley with him as he looked around.</p><p>“Miracle budget is carte blanche, so go nuts. And your little pet here,” Gabriel tapped Crowley’s cheek and the growl that earned required no acting whatsoever, “can’t use any infernal magic you don’t authorize. I’ve got mine with limited teleportation, like you saw.”</p><p>“Yours…?” Azirapahle miracled a couch, trusting it to be formed by the time he sat down. Sensing where this conversation might go, Crowley let his legs fold under him as he sat on the ground.</p><p>“They make great assistants, I’ll give the demons that much. But honestly, mine’s crap. You should see Michael’s - it did wonders with her filing system.”</p><p>Realization flickered through Aziraphale and his grip tightened on Crowley’s neck. “Oh of course, the spoils of war, how could I forget.”</p><p>“Yeah, Buttercup,” Gabriel laughed. “You got one right here! Man, I knew you were funny but now I don’t regret letting John Mulaney be burned into nuclear oblivion.”</p><p>That was news. “Were the worthy humans not saved?”</p><p>“Oh, they were,” Gabriel said, turning solemn. “But you know what he did. He was over on the bench. Not like we were going to let Hitler up here either.”</p><p>“If Hell has lost, then what–”</p><p>“Like I said, oblivion. Keep up, sunshine. Most of the demons went that way too, so you were right to call yours a prize.” Gabriel looked at his watch. “Gotta jet, meetings to oversee, you know how it is. I’ll expect a report on this thing in a week, okay?”</p><p>“Report?” Aziraphale was standing now, hand still fisted in Crowley’s hair. “Gabriel, I don’t know how much I’ll learn in a week.”</p><p>Gabriel was already moving towards the wall space that had been filled with the portal, summoning it back into existence. “Oh yeah, I know. Just get me like, starter stuff. Hypothesizes, procedures, whatever you nerds do. Ew, I can’t believe research is actually my department.”</p><p>When the portal closed behind him, Aziraphale slumped back down onto the couch. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?” Crowley stood, missing the touch of Aziraphale’s hand in his hair. “No, not okay, Aziraphale. What did you just agree to?”</p><p>“To what we’ve always done, faking reports to our bosses. We’ll be fine.” He miracled a two glasses of wine into his hands, already filled with a good dark red.</p><p>Crowley slapped them out of his hand and they shattered on the floor. “Are you mad?!”</p><p>The glass and stains disappeared with a frustrated huff from Aziraphale. “He said carte blanche. No one will be monitoring them, and even if they were, it’s hardly the first time I’ve miracled a glass for you.”</p><p>“We had deniability before - you could have miracled a glass for any of the humans. Now there are no more humans and you’re alone in a room with a demon you’re supposed to–” Crowley was pacing again, though it was far less frustrating in the expansive new room than in the tiny bunker. “For the love of Someone, Aziraphale, Gabriel is going to want reports! You really think he was telling the truth when he said carte blanche?”</p><p>“You think Gabriel would lie to me?”</p><p>“He always lies to you!”</p><p>“Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly, “we won.” As though it was that simple, as though everything would be easy now.</p><p>“No, angel. You won. Your boss respects you, finally, and I’m not saying you don’t deserve that. But my boss is scrubbing shit off the floors of Heaven.” He was shaking, cold in the empty celestial room. “Not that I give a fuck what happens to them, but you damn well know Gabriel could have miracled away that fake blood without a thought. Beez isn’t his assistant, they’re being punished. And I will be too.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s warm hand stilled his pacing. “ You heard Gabriel, you’re my prize for fighting in the war. You are under my protection. And you’ve seen how I get about things under my protection.”</p><p>“Yeah, that worked out well for humanity.”</p><p>“I was guarding the gate, technically not the humans.” They’d had this argument a thousand times, comfortable like broken in shoes.</p><p>“Ya know, when you say apple tree duty–”</p><p>“Crowley.” Aziraphale tightened his grip, only slightly, hardly an echo of his grip from their staged battle.</p><p>“Okay.” Crowley let his smile linger for a minute before fading into a frown. “But if Gabriel finds out what we’re up to, you’ll be in even more trouble than I am. I’m an enemy of Heaven, and that’s all well and good, but you’d be a traitor. You really don’t want to know what happens to Heaven’s traitors. I can’t let you know.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded, leaning up on his toes to press a kiss on Crowley’s cheek. “We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find out. Pick research that’s an impossible task so we’ll never be done.”</p><p>Crowley bent down, kissing the edge of Aziraphale’s lips. “Mm, sounds like you already have an impossible idea.”</p><p>“Well, Heaven won,” he whispered, slow and sensuous, playing at a lover’s promise instead of a gamble for their lives. “So I think I should expect you to rise to the occasion.”</p><p>Crowley would have laughed at such a cheesy line if he weren’t so busy kissing his perfect angel breathless.</p>
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